Love is never wrong
by SophiZwingli
Summary: Emil cuts himself, only to find Lukas being the reason. Contains Norway/Iceland and a trigger warning.


Emil ran downstairs, clutching his wrist in his hand, praying his brother was not home.

"Little brother?"

Damn.

Emil turned to face Lukas, who was not much taller than he was.

"Hello, Lukas," he replied nonchalantly.

"Why are you holding your wrist like that?"

Emil shook of the question and turned away, starting towards the hall.

"Answer me," Lukas called, remaining in his spot at the end of the hallway.

"It's nothing," Emil promised, rummaging the kitchen drawers.

Come on, he thought. There has to be gauze somewhere.

"If you say so," was Lukas's response, as he fled up the stairs and was gone.

Emil, however, was worried sick. Using his hand as a tourniquet was working to stop the blood, even if it was now dripping down his arm.

He finally found bandages and aided his man-made wounds, smiling slightly at the crimson liquid.

Cutting was not a good thing, as Emil knew, but he couldn't stop.

It was an addiction; something that ate him alive.

Why he cut, nobody knew. Emil himself did not know the reason.

He figured it had something to do with his brother, something about love.

Emil loved his brother passionately, more than anything.

Lukas gave him a sense of happiness, of joy, and not having such feelings returned pained him.

But certainly not enough to hurt himself for it..

Or so he had thought.

Emil carefully unwrapped the white gauze on his wrists, checking for scabbing. Of course, the scabs had formed. Emil groaned.

He loved the scars. He loved the way every scar would shine in lighting, he loved having a secret, something nobody knew.

He would dread somebody knowing.

Emil heard a laugh coming from downstairs. A familiar one, at that.

It was Lukas; and his heart lept.

Then he heard another voice, a deeper, accented one.

"But c'mon, babe, I like your ass!"

_Matthias._

Emil flushed with rage. He forgot about scars. He forgot about blood. He forgot about cutting. He forgot about everything, and was focused on one thing.

He loved Lukas, his older brother; his own kin, own blood. The one who helped their mother raise him when she was on her death bed; the one who protected the three-year-old Emil from their father, who had forced the family to suffer from domestic abuse since before Emil had been born. The one who teased him, running his tongue along the curve of his ear and gentle nibbling on his earlobe, asking for the name 'big brother'.

Emil loved Lukas, and that was the only thing he cared about.

He pulled open a drawer and grabbed a medium-sized red box that used to belong to his mother.

Opening the box revealed a pile of razors, along with a box of matched and a burned stick of wood.

In the corner was Emil's beloved package of cigarettes.

Emil grabbed the cleanest razor he could find, which by the way, was still blood stained, and removed his pants, then his shirt.

Where to start, Emil thought. He noticed a spot on his mid thigh, scarless, cutless.

Perfect. Emil loved to cut on virgin skin, so pure and supple, the blood so red.

Fuck recovery. He hated everything right now. He wished Matthias never existed, he wished he and Lukas were not brothers, he wished..

"Brother?" Lukas called from upstairs, breaking his train of thought. "Are you okay up there?"

"I'm fine!" Emil shouted back, not realising nor caring that his voice was thick with tears, that his heavy pants made it obvious that he was crying.

"Brother.."

To Emil's surprise, Lukas's voice had changed from the normal monotone which he usually spoke in to a peculiarly worried tone of voice, almost like he cared.

Lukas's voice inched closer and closer as Emil pushed the blade in deeper and deeper.

_Fuck this. Fuck that. Fuck it all. Fuck everything._

The door swung open and it struck Emil that he had forgotten to lock it.

"Emil.."

It was the first time Lukas had said his name in so long, instead of "brother".

Lukad walked over to his brother and crouched down next to him.

Emil released the razor from his skin, noticing the blood on it, but not noticing how deep he cut.

Lukas stared down at Emil's thigh, inspecting the wound.

It was a while before anyone spoke.

"Emil, did you do that to yourself?" Lukas finally said, staring at the cut.

Emil nodded slowly.

"A-are there more?"

Emil nodded again and held out his wrists, the scars glinting in the light, shining. Emil was proud of his scars, yes, but he felt somewhat.. guilty about this.

"Why? Why would you do this to yourself?"

Emil did not respond.

"Little brother, come with me."

Lukas stood up and held out his hand. Emil grabbed it as his older brother led him to the living room and sat him down on the couch.

Emil silently prayed that Matthias had departed.

"Emil, you are perfect. Do not hurt yourself. I love you, brother."

Lukas placed a light kiss on his brother's forehead, stood up and turned away, ready to walk.

"But not how I love you, right?"

Emil's face burned with pink as he rested his face in his hands.

Nobody said a word.

After what seemed like hours, Emil felt arms wrap around him. They weren't big nor strong, but they were comforting. Emil relaxed and inhaled deeply in his brother's chest.

Lukas touched his lips to his younger brother's forehead, whispering several things in Norwegian.

Emil did not understand Norwegian. He had grown up in Iceland with his family. In fact, nobody was related to Norway until their father had left when he was just four, dragging Lukas along with him.

Emil had never felt so alone, so empty, never.

Not even now.

Lukas had flown back into Iceland after hearing news that their mother had fallen ill. Lukas was to take care of their mother and help with eight-year-old Emil. Shortly after, though, their mother had passed away. Lukas stayed with Emil that night, holding him close, rubbing small circles on his back, 'shh'ing him as Emil cried his heart out into Lukas's chest.

Their father had returned to Iceland with them shortly after to mourn their mother's death. He lived with the boys to look after them. When Lukas was sixteen and Emil was thirteen, Lukas had announced his homosexuality; the reponse of their father was a punch in the jaw.

"No faggots allowed in my home!" he screamed. Emil stepped in front of his brother protectively, which was to no use, since Emil had been a twig all his life.

"What if I'm gay too?" Emil blurted. He hadn't meant to say it, even though he was almost 100% positive he was gay, for his brother.

"Oh, two little faggots?"

Their father slapped Emil and kicked them both out of the house. Lukas and Emil had met a guy named Matthias at the local Starbucks. He offered to take them into his home and Lukas claimed to fall in love with the guy. Which didn't make any sense to Emil.

Lukas was quiet, sophisticated, calm, mysterious, clever, intelligent, and beautiful.

Yes, beautiful. Lukas was beautiful.

Emil had to admit, Matthias was indeed handsome; however, it's not all about a pretty face.

Matthias was loud, rowdy, unkept, annoying, drunk, obnoxious, idiotic, oblivious, and though he was charming, he was the exact opposite of Lukas.

Somehow, they had managed to fall in love with each other.

Opposites attract, huh?

Emil erased the memories from his head and looked up.

The first thing he saw were deep indigo eyes, once so empty with mystery; now so full with comfort. Lukas's lips had twisted into a delicate smile, which was rare. Lukas never smiled; his face was a stone.

Emil smiled himself, his eyes welling up with tears that threatened to pour.

Lukas did not seem to notice. Instead, he grabbed both of Emil's wrists and inspected his scars carefully. Finally, he leaned his head forward and kissed them, the scars. Each and every one, Lukas pressed careful kisses to them, afraid to hurt his brother.

His head returned to be level with Emil's and leaned closer, his lips brushing against Emil's. Lukas carefully pressed his lips onto his brother's.

Emil responded by wrapping his arms around Lukas's neck. Lukas grabbed his waist and kissed him harder, deeper.

Tongue met tongue and Emil was lost. It was what he had waited so long for, craving to discover the taste of his tongue, feeling his lips gently kissing his neck.

Emil couldn't want anything more than this, nothing could feel as amazing as this.

Absolutely nothing.

Lukas finally pulled away and wiped the tongue residue off of his mouth and smiled.

"I really do love you, little brother."

Emil looked up at him, positive his own lavender eyes were sparkling.

"No, you love Matthias."

Lukas shook his head. "No. I love you. I just.. I thought it was wrong.."

Emil laughed softly at his brother's words. "Silly big brother. Love is never wrong."

Lukas smiled wryly and leaned in for another kiss.


End file.
